


followed your ashes into outer space

by parpar



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anxiety, Disability, Friendship, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parpar/pseuds/parpar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The numbers of the War Clock ticked down to zero, and the resulting euphoria was thick as smoke in the air.  The assortment of PPDC members and civilian contractors were in an uproar, and Hermann and Newton made their way down the LOCCENT steps to stand in the midst of it.</p><p>When Tendo had finally managed to get Mako and Raleigh to stop hugging and cooperate with the rescue team, Newton had leaned his forehead into the curve of Hermann’s shoulder.</p><p>“We actually pulled it off,” he had whispered.  “We did it, holy shit, it’s over.”  Hermann had gracefully ignored the tears soaking into his collar and patted his colleague on the back while he pulled himself together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	followed your ashes into outer space

The numbers of the War Clock ticked down to zero, and the resulting euphoria was thick as smoke in the air.  The assortment of PPDC members and civilian contractors were in an uproar, and Hermann and Newton made their way down the LOCCENT steps to stand in the midst of it.

When Tendo had finally managed to get Mako and Raleigh to stop hugging and cooperate with the rescue team, Newton had leaned his forehead into the curve of Hermann’s shoulder.

“We actually pulled it off,” he had whispered.  “We did it, holy shit, it’s over.”  Hermann had gracefully ignored the tears soaking into his collar and patted his colleague on the back while he pulled himself together.

Cheers in several different languages greeted the arrival of kegs that the Russian, Hawaiian, and South African Jaeger technicians carted up from the sub-basements on dollies.  Newton screeched something in Mandarin and high-fived a nearby mechanic.  To look at him now, one would have no idea that he had been crying not five minutes ago.

At Hermann’s raised eyebrow, Newton translated that he was going to do “a keg stand for freedom,” shouting to be heard over the din.

His arm was still slung over Hermann’s shoulders.  Hermann found himself standing as still as possible, so as not to dislodge it. He was reminded of warm summer days at his grandparents’ lake house in the mountains.  How he would spend hours sitting motionless in the tall grass with handfuls of birdseed, waiting for chipmunks to crawl into his palms.

“We’re fuckin’ rockstars, Herms!” Newton yelled into Hermann’s sweaty temple.  The feeling of his friend’s soft mouth against his skin was enough to make Hermann shiver and forget about making a fuss over being called “Herms.”

He numbly accepted a shot of an unknown clear alcohol from a newly arrived Tendo and tossed it back.  He slammed the paper Dixie cup onto a table, and grimaced at the burn.

Newton, after a moment of awed silence, let go of Hermann to raise both hands in the air and whoop.

Hermann laughed, caught up in the hysterical joy around him and the lingering warmth of Newton’s body along his side.  The next shot was Newton’s, and he tipped his head back to swallow it, putting his pale throat on display.  That sight was enough to make Hermann want to do something reckless, something like fisting his hand in Newton’s hair and sucking a bruise into the tender hollow of his throat.

“Stop smashing the Dixie cups, we have a limited amount,” Tendo yelled.  “I don’t wanna have to start passing the bottles around, because I am _not_ celebrating saving the world by getting mono from one of you idiots.”

“That was one time,” Newton said, outraged but dutifully uncrumpling his paper cup.  He turned to Hermann.  “I swear, accidentally infect an entire ‘Dome with a cold and they never let you forget it.”

“Hmm, I seem to remember it was strep throat,” Hermann said, smiling.

“A _mild_ strain, it was a mild strain, and for that matter-- “

“Let us not share any cups or bottles tonight.  My immune system is still recovering from that _mild_ strain, Typhoid Newton.”  He snagged a coffee mug of beer off a passing rolling cart and drank deeply, never breaking eye contact.

Newton tipped his head to the side and smirked, impressed as he always was with Hermann’s dickishness.  He gave Hermann a considering look, a slow and dirty thing that sent a thrill up Hermann’s spine.  “That nickname is slander and calumny, Dr. Gottlieb.  And...”

He stepped closer and took the mug from Hermann, lowering his voice.  “I can think of some other things for us to share tonight,” he said, and took a sip.  “I ever tell you that--ugh, this beer tastes like a bathtub, _gross_ \--I ever tell you that you wear a smirk remarkably well?”

A flash from a nearby camera phone startled Hermann, and his planned retort fled his mind.  A shame, for it had been a good one, and had contained at least two double entendres.

Newton winked and turned away to speak with Tendo, and the moment between them ended.

Hermann patted down the pockets of his trousers and did not feel the weight of his cell phone.  He rolled his eyes and cursed in German.

“Newton, I will return shortly,” he yelled, collecting his cane from where it was leaning against a keg.

Newton spun around, his eyes glassy and shining.  “Huh? Okay, dude, but hurry! Lots of partying to do and we can’t do it without you.”  Newton clapped a hand on his shoulder and gifted him with a blinding grin.

Hermann stuttered a response and left.

\------

By the time he had pushed his way through the partiers and climbed the flight of stairs to LOCCENT, Hermann was out of breath.  He knew that he should retrieve his pain medication from his room before his leg became unbearable, but he wanted to get back to the party, to Newton.  He had missed so many parties in his life, not attending most of the ones to which he had been given an invitation. 

Now that the war was over, maybe he could start his life in earnest, actually _have_ a life and friends and a stable job. 

He reflected on the flirtations he had shared with Newton tonight, and regretted that they had been cut short.  They had flirted for the past ten years, but tonight was different.  They had come to a new understanding, and where before they had merely traded sexually charged insults, there was now genuine affection.  Their shared drift had clarified as many things as it had blurred.

He smiled down at the crowd in the hangar from the LOCCENT window.  He closed his eyes and felt the rumbling bass of the hangar doors opening vibrate deep in his chest.  Judging by the cheering, Mako and Raleigh had been safely delivered by the rescue team. 

A burst of loud music exploded through the complex.  The intercom system crackled out a song that Hermann had often heard the kitchen staff playing during the lunch rush.  Since Hermann’s arrival to Hong Kong, those speakers had only been used for alarm sirens and grim announcements from Marshall Pentecost.    

Hermann flinched.

He collapsed into the nearest chair, which happened to be Tendo’s.  The truth of the marshall’s death had been present all evening, like a grim cosmic background radiation, but in the command center his absence was especially obvious.

Though they had been far from friends, Pentecost had sometimes eaten meals with Hermann and the other scientists.  They had sat in the freezing Vladivostok mess hall, and spoken about London, research projects, and once, memorably, about Mako’s outstanding report card.

Hermann had even made him laugh once or twice, and the memory of perpetually stoic Pentecost smiling over a bowl of lentil soup, his eyes crinkling at the corners, had Hermann curling over his knees and dropping his head into his hands.

Whatever warmth that remained from the evening’s success departed.

LOCCENT hummed around him, its instruments and displays still in the process of powering down to sleep mode.  Pentecost would never stand next to the control panels again, and he would never again command the attention of every person in a room or eat lentil soup in Vladivostok. Above, the fluorescent lights ticked off one by one. 

Hermann rubbed his hands over his face, refusing to think of the others who had been lost today, or just how close they had come to failure.  It was too much, and he swallowed and tapped his cane until he could breathe again, the chair squeaking with every movement. 

Hermann leaned back, exhausted and dizzy.  He catalogued how much strain his body had suffered in the past twenty four hours.  Running around the Shatterdome and sprinting to and from helicopters had taken its toll, and his muscles were cramping, his bad leg throbbing. 

As for the experimental drift, Hermann did not try to guess how it had affected him.  Neurology was not his field.  The smart thing to do would be to pay a visit to the infirmary, to at least make sure he had not damaged his prosthetic leg, but he knew it was very likely that most of the med bay employees had already flown off to aid the injured in downtown Hong Kong. 

He was in pain, but he was alive to feel it.  The brain scans and therapy appointments could wait.  There would be time for them later, and wasn’t that just the strangest thing?  There was a future waiting for him, one that he had helped create.  A vast, yawning void stretched before all of them, and Hermann had no idea where to start.

A last computer beeped and sank into standby.  Hermann hoisted himself to his feet and found his jacket tossed over a computer monitor, his phone in the left pocket.  Why had he wanted his phone?  Even if the phone lines weren’t flooded with emergency services, he had no one to call.  His only friends were here, and quite a lot of them were recently...  

“Dead.”

His own voice disturbed him, and he glanced around to ensure no one had heard him.  He clenched his jaw and knew he would not return to the celebration.  If he was lucky, he might make it back to his quarters before he embarrassed himself in front of his colleagues. 

With that thought, he set off. 

Now that he was looking for it, he could see the cracks in the joyous atmosphere.  People weeping openly, rangers collapsed against walls as if they couldn’t move a step further, a few petty interdepartmental scuffles. Grief and frustration were rampant, even among the partiers.  Their grins were too wide, their shouts too loud.  They were drinking too much, anything to put off the thoughts of their futures and their dead friends.

Hermann tried not to think of Pentecost as he left LOCCENT and walked the stark hallways.  It didn’t work.  Hermann could still so clearly remember the man’s unwavering composure and devotion.  His not-so-secret illness.  His talent for silencing arguments in K-Science division.  And most of all, his love for Mako, especially visible in those first years after Onibaba where he had not yet mastered concealing his adoration.

The lower halls were not as empty as Hermann had hoped.  A ranger still in full uniform carrying a bottle in each hand jogged down the hallway.  Hermann avoided eye contact, but the ranger stopped in front of him and, to Hermann’s horror, pulled him into a hug.  The cold bottles rested against Hermann’s shoulder blades, freezing his skin through his thin shirts. 

The ranger released him after a moment.  He was smiling and crying, and said something in Russian, his voice cracking halfway through.  He offered one of the bottles to Hermann, who shook his head, and then he was gone, jogging towards the mess hall party. 

Hermann shuddered through several breaths, losing composure rapidly, and walked on to the service elevator. 

More memories crept up on him, relentless as the tide.  Chuck Hansen had held the doors of this elevator for Hermann every morning.  Hermann had been embarrassed and angry by the gesture and rarely thanked him, suspicious that Chuck had only done it to mock him. 

Sasha Kaidonovsky had strutted down a hallway just like this one in Vladivostok with a laughing, wobbling Mako in tow years ago.  They had both worn high heeled shoes, and Sasha barked instructions at Mako, telling her to stand tall. 

The elevator arrived.  As usual, it dropped unnervingly fast.  Hermann rested his forehead against the cool metal door, breathing hard, while a cycling roster of the ones they had lost flashed behind his eyes, like the hellish after images of the Drift. 

Aleksis Kaidonovsky hoisting Newt into the air by the hips so that Newt could dunk a basketball, and the Wei brothers’ ensuing cries of foul play.  Pentecost leaving a K-Sci meeting early to see Mako off to her first day of school.  Hu Wei walking into the lab last winter and giving Hermann a small box of his favorite herbal tea for Christmas, for no reason that Hermann could think of other than to be kind. 

Dozens of Jaeger pilots over the years, gone to their deaths.  Rangers, medics, civilians.  Entire cities wiped out.  His college roommate dead of Kaiju Blue exposure.  The riots in his hometown over rationing.  Dr. Geizsler experiencing a seizure on the floor of the lab. 

By the time he reached his room, Hermann was panting and shivering.  The edges of his vision were turning black, a panic attack.  It took five tries to fit his key in the lock, and three tries to push the door open. 

It was terribly difficult to breathe.  Maybe this was what it felt like to drown.

In the process of shoving the door closed, just when he was finally safe to begin weeping in earnest, Hermann heard a familiar voice shout from down the hall.

“Hermann, there you are! Dude, you’re not at the party!” Newt cried.  “Come on, man, let’s go, drinks are on me.  Literally, someone spilled vodka _all_ over my shirt.”

Hermann dropped his cane and pushed at the door with both hands, but Newt managed to wedge his foot in the jamb.  His face peered in through the crack.

“Ah come on, just a few drinks, yeah?  Then I’ll let you... Hermann?”

Hermann was freezing, why was it so cold in his room?  Maybe Tomas had left the window open, he thought, before remembering that he wasn’t in his dormitory at Oxford and Tomas had been dead for eight years.

Someone was wheezing, and he thought it might be him.  Later when he could breathe and think properly he would be mortified, he was sure of it.  Newt must have pushed the door open because there he was, standing in Hermann’s bedroom for the first time.  Despite the gasping sobs that he could not hold back anymore, Hermann thought Newt looked well standing beside the bookshelf.

“Hermann, oh my God, are you okay?  What’s wrong? Is it your leg? Lemme check your pulse.”

He tried to speak, to yell at Newt to get out, to ask him what _wasn’t_ wrong, but couldn’t manage the words.  There wasn’t enough air.  Dimly, he was aware that he was being guided to his cot, and Newton was telling him to lie down. 

“Deep breaths, deep breaths Hermann, you got this.”  Newton started rummaging through drawers.  “Where do you keep your pain meds?  How long has it been since you’ve taken them?” 

Without the support of his cane, Hermann collapsed on the bed at an odd angle.  The motion jarred his hip and everything whited out into a haze of pain.

The world faded back in degrees of dull agony, and Newt was talking to him.

“Hermann, _shit_ , I’m so sorry, just hang on buddy, hang on,” Newt said.  He muttered to himself and Hermann could hear the rattle of the pill bottle, the rush of the bathroom sink, and then he was sitting beside Hermann.

“How many do you take?” Newt asked, and shook the small bottle.  Hermann held up two fingers and Newt tapped the pills onto Hermann’s palm.  To his credit, Newt didn’t say anything when Hermann sloshed water all over his shirt, his fingers trembling too badly to hold the cup. 

“Finish the rest of that water if you can,” Newt said.  He smoothed a hand through Hermann’s hair, his watch band tangling briefly in Hermann’s fringe, then stood up.  Hermann tried, swallowing a few tiny sips, but it turned his stomach and he couldn’t breathe and his world was ending, so he decided to just drop the cup on the floor where it rolled under the bed.  He curled up on his side, facing the wall.

Hermann startled badly when Newton sat back down.  He had snooped and found the heat packs stashed under the sink, and settled one over Hermann’s hip where the cramping was worst.  The warmth spreading over his hip should have been comforting, should have helped. 

Instead it just reminded him of how little he deserved this comfort.  How there were bodies at the bottom of the ocean and people most likely dying in Hong Kong at that moment, trapped or bleeding or suffocating alone.

He held his breath and closed his eyes, desperately trying to stifle all the noxious shit he had allowed Newton to see. 

“Hey, hey now.  Don’t tense up like that.  And keep breathing, you’re kinda--you’re scarin’ the shit outta me here, Hermann.  You should get some sleep.  It’s--it’s gonna be okay, man.  Let’s get some clean clothes on you, yeah?  You can’t sleep in damp clothes, you’ll catch pneumonia or tuberculosis or something equally awful and then you’ll never stop calling me Typhoid Newton.” 

Hermann must have accomplished something like a nod, because Newton sprang into action.  He lay there and let Newton peel him out of his sweat- and rain-soaked clothes.  What did it matter if Newton saw his pale, thin body?  What was one more indignity?  

Once his shoes, shirts, and trousers were off (thankfully he left Hermann’s boxers alone), Newton said, “Hey, Hermann?  Is it--I mean, you told me once that you hate to sleep with your prosthetic on, can I--”

Hermann nodded.  Newton carefully unbuckled and removed his prosthetic leg and limb sock and set it on Hermann’s desk.  He wrestled Hermann into a clean t-shirt and socks and then bundled him under the covers.  Hermann lay quietly, listening to Newton clean up the spilled water and fetch his cane from across the room.

The touch of a warm washcloth to his face startled him.  “Sorry, sorry,” Newton said.  He scrubbed off the tears, snot, rain, and dirt with a no-nonsense tenderness that reminded Hermann of his mother.  He hitched a sob, and covered his face with his hands.

Newton allowed him to roll back over onto his side, bustling around the room, tidying up.  Getting ready to leave, Hermann thought.  He shook with compressed sobs, body wracked with grief that he had never learned how to process.

He was not prepared for Newton to lay down behind him and rub his back.  Hermann kept his hands over his face but relaxed in slow degrees into the curve of Newton’s body. 

To his dismay, he began to say all sorts of ridiculous things and couldn’t stop, pressing his hand over his mouth so hard that his teeth left indentations into his palm.  Things about how he never said goodbye to his mother or even had a chance to visit her grave, and Pentecost helping him up from a fall down the LOCCENT steps, and Herc Hansen’s face turning ashen when he realized his son was about to die. 

It came pouring out of him, the combined terror of the last twenty years spilling into the silence of his room. 

“Chuck _died_ an hour ago and Pentecost is dead and Mako is an orphan again, that poor girl, and I can’t--I can’t _breathe_ , there’s not.  How can they be dead, I’m never going to see Hu Wei again, he’s dead, he gave me tea every Christmas and he’s dead, Newt, _please_ \--”

And Newton stroked his hair and spoke soft words into the sweaty nape of Hermann’s neck.  Things like “I know,” and “it’s not even a little fair, I hate this, too,” and “take deep breaths, breathe with me, just breathe.”

Newton stroked his hair and his shoulders, and he made sure the heat pack stayed perched over the curve of Hermann’s hip.  When Hermann ran out of words,Newt held him tighter, and whispered that it would be all right.

\------

Hermann woke from a blue-tinged dream with a gasp, hearing a matching gasp behind him.  He shoved himself to a sitting position and snapped on his bedside lamp.  Newton Geizsler lay in his bed atop the covers, squinting in the yellow light.  

“Hey,” Newton croaked.

After a pause, Hermann nodded.  “Hello.” He looked away and slumped against the headboard, his eyes aching from crying. 

“How’s the leg?”

Hermann sighed, and caught a glimpse of his wall clock.  “It’s better.” 

They both sat quietly for a long minute, ignoring the elephant in the room.

At least, they _were_ ignoring it until Newton asked, “Were we just having the same nightmare?”

Hermann groaned.  “Knowing our luck, we probably were,” he said.  Sitting up was proving to be too draining, so he lay back down. 

Newton nudged Hermann’s shoulder with his own.  “I dunno man, seems our luck has been pretty good lately.  War’s over.  We’re both alive.  Fuck, we drifted on tech I made from garbage--”

“ _Garbage_?”

“--and most likely didn’t suffer aneurysms.”

“Oh, ‘most likely,’ is it?”

“Well, not yet at least, there’ll be time for aneurysms later.”

They both laughed.  Hermann turned his head to find Newton looking at him, a soft, tired smile on his face. 

In the odd bubble that the late hour and their mutual exhaustion had created, Hermann examined Newton.  One of his pupils was ringed in red, there was still grime and dirt in his hair, and his chin was bruised.  In the muted lamplight and without his glasses, Newton was vulnerable, and so beautiful it made Hermann’s chest tight. 

“You got one, too,” said Newton.

“Hmm?”

Newton waved a hand at his own face and dropped it to the bed, seemingly too tired to hold it up.  “Red eye.”

Hermann nodded through a yawn.

“We match,” Newton continued, his eyes closed now.  “Better’n friendship bracelets.  You can’t take this off.” 

Hermann watched Newton fall asleep.  It was too much effort to turn the lamp off, so he left it on, and fell asleep to the deep, even breaths of the man beside him.

\------

_“...is at this time uncertain.  Those who wish to help with the cleanup in Hong Kong and are fit to do so, report to Hangar 5.  Everyone else, remain on standby, but take the day to rest and call your families. Marshall Hansen signing off.”_

Herc’s voice, made even hoarser by the speaker system, roused Hermann from a dreamless sleep.

He sat up and rubbed the grit from the corners of his eyes.  Newton was gone, but had left toast and a mug of tea on the nightstand.  Hermann blinked at the mug, remembering it as the one Newton had dropped inside a Kaiju specimen last week.

The events of the previous night were far too taxing to begin remembering, so Hermann went back to sleep.

Hours and two nightmares later, he forced himself out of bed and stumbled his way through a shower.  His entire body hurt, joints aching fiercely.  The closest comparison in sensation was how he had felt after his car crash in Boston.

Hermann’s eyes shot open. He had never been in a car accident.  That wasn’t his memory.

He finished his shower and pulled on the nearest clean clothes he could find.  He tested his weight on his prosthetic and was relieved to discover only a hint of discomfort where it attached to his upper thigh.  

The halls were full of people wandering aimlessly.  On his way to the mess hall, Hermann learned from overhearing several conversations that officials were on their way to the Shatterdome to confirm the threat had ended before the entire story was released to the media.  The internet was full of rumors and theories, but the main news networks had yet to comment.  

Those who were fit for duty and needed something to do in order to keep themselves sane were shipped out to the city to help with the aftermath.  Thankfully, due to Hong Kong’s excellent Kaiju alert system and bunkers, there had been very few casualties compared to other cities hit by Kaiju.

In the mess hall, Hermann found Tendo eating scrambled eggs and chatting happily on his cell phone.  He collected a plate from the cooks and sat down just as Tendo was finishing his conversation.  

"My abuela," he said in explanation.  "Can't tell her everything, officially, but I wanted to reassure her that everything was gonna be okay."

They shared a quiet breakfast.  Tendo was contacted by three more family members in Peru, leaving Hermann time for introspection.  He thought about the previous night, and was surprised to discover that he felt only mildly mortified about baring his soul in front of Newton.  If he was being honest with himself, he would rather skip the tedious process of repression and self-recrimination and instead linger on the sight of Newton asleep in his bed.

He had finished breakfast and was watching a vine on Tendo's phone when an announcement came over the intercom system.

_“Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, report to the med bay.  Hermann Gottlieb, report to the med bay.”_

Over the years Hermann had grown quite accustomed to hospitals.  The Shatterdome's med bay was no different than the clinics and emergency rooms he had visited, if a little darker and more harried.  Hermann had been diagnosed with bone cancer when he was young, and the doctors had not been able to save his left leg.  Several remissions and various surgeries had left him with chronic pain in his hip.  On good days, Hermann could be on his feet for hours and forgo any pain medication.  On bad days, the pain was immobilizing and Hermann either stayed in bed or used a wheelchair.

The doctors hustled him into a white gown and directed him to a free bed.  His leg was taken away for someone to tinker with, leaving him to answer the nurse’s questions and wilt beneath her disapproving glare. 

“Yes, I _agree_ , I pushed myself far too hard this last week but it was something of a crisis, you have to understand.  Next time the world is about to be consumed by sea monsters I will do as you say and ‘take it easy,’ all right?’”

The nurse rolled her eyes, aggressively ticked off a box on her clipboard, and mercifully left.  Hermann sighed and reminded himself to apologize when she came back.

The bed beside him was occupied by Newton, who had fallen asleep reading a magazine.  He lay flat on his back, an old edition of _Seventeen_ magazine spread over his chest.

Hermann took a cotton swab from the table beside his bed and tossed it onto Newton’s face.  Newton snorted and sat up, blinking at Hermann.

“Interesting reading?” Hermann asked.

“Hmm?  Oh, well, not really, but there is a pretty good article about cruelty-free eyeliner.”

Hermann smiled. He sighed and stared at the ceiling.  “I didn’t know about your car accident.”

Newton shifted on the crackly paper.  “Uh, not really something that comes up naturally in conversation.”  He coughed.  “You come down here willingly or did Herc throw you over his shoulder and drag you away from the lab?”

“Neither,” Hermann said.  “I was watching an interesting series of vines, I’ll have you know."

"Dr. Gottlieb, don't you know all the cool kids are using vidchicken these days?  Stupid name, I know, but the image quality is _insane_."

"That may well be, but these videos showed a handsome idiot almost being eaten by a Kaiju in an underground shelter." 

Newton's smile wavered.  Hermann was about to apologize when the man fell back onto the bed, laughing loudly enough that several nurses glared suspiciously in their direction.  " _Handsome_ , huh?  You charmer, you."

They spoke until they were each hauled away for an exhausting afternoon of scans, tests, interviews, and injections.  Before he was wheeled away, Newton held out his hand for a fist-bump. Hermann obliged him.

\------

“Drift hangover? Nah, we slept through most of it, I think.  You were having some crazy dreams, though dude.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow, alarmed.

Newton and Hermann were in their shared lab, cleaning up Kaiju viscera and updating their project notes, respectively.  The doctors had kept them so long that it was early evening by the time they were free to go.  Neither had much of an appetite so they skipped dinner in favor of doing something useful.  No one in the Shatterdome was accustomed to not working at a frantic pace, and old habits were hard to break.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I could help seeing ‘em, jeez.  Half of them were probably mine.”  Newt kicked out with one foot, sending the office chair he was sitting in spinning across the room.  “Anyway, connection’s gone now.”

Where before, Hermann would have scolded Newton for spinning in his chair, today he just rolled his eyes and turned to hide his smile.  The bulk of their animosity had largely disappeared when the Kaiju did.  Without a backdrop of urgency and panic, Newton’s obnoxious habits that once seemed catastrophic were now only mildly annoying. 

“Hey Hermy, here’s that tie I stole from you like three years ago!  You might not want it back, though, I used it to shore up a gap in one of my specimen tanks and it’s a little...Kaiju-y.”

Hermann just sighed, shook his head, and resumed typing.

\------

Hermann spent the day following the funerals relaxing in his room.  The ceremonies for the Jaeger teams lasted most of the afternoon and ended with most everyone getting roaringly drunk.  

Hungover and feeling raw, Hermann had Newton as his near-constant companion the next day, leaving his room only to fetch snacks and ice.  The pair watched movies on Newton’s laptop and drank tea, trying to distract themselves from the pall of misery and grief hanging over the Shatterdome.  Every so often they would scroll through the major news sites to see how the world was reacting to a canceled apocalypse.

The transition from a heated argument over the physics of _Star Wars_ to Newton kissing Hermann carefully on the mouth was almost nonexistent.

Newton interrupted himself mid sentence to lean in and fit their mouths together for one small, quiet moment.  The frames of his glasses tapped Hermann’s nose. 

He pulled away, flicked his eyes up to meet Hermann’s for the space of a slow breath, and leaned in for another kiss.  It was Newt’s hand sliding over his that snapped Hermann out of his shock, had him surging forward into the other man’s arms.

Hermann fell into it as though he’d been kissing Newt every day since they had met.  Everything was incredible.  The warm breath huffed against his chin, the wet sounds of their lips parting and meeting again, Newton’s glasses fogging up. Hermann broke their kiss to pull the man’s ridiculous frames off his face and set them on the nightstand.

He swooped right back in, wrapping Newton in his arms and pulling him down until they were lying side by side, pressing small, urgent kisses to each other’s lips and jaws.  It was incredible and intimate and everything that Hermann thought he would never be able to have again.

“Can I touch you,” Newton breathed.  “Please, I wanna touch you, wanna,” he swallowed hard, “wanna make you feel good.” His hands shook where they cupped Hermann’s face.  Hermann’s mouth fell open as he panted, a slow heat burning in his gut. “Please, Hermann, you’re just--”

Newton cut himself off when he leaned in to press another kiss to Hermann’s slack mouth, as if he couldn’t bear to stop.   

Hermann nodded, his stomach swooping.  Newton nodded back to him, and matching relieved grins cracked over their faces.

They moved closer, and Newton slotted one leg between Hermann’s thighs.  “Is this okay?  Am I hurting you?” he whispered against Hermann’s throat.

“It’s perfect,” Hermann said, and dropped his head back against the pillow when Newton rolled his hips forward.  Hermann could feel Newton hard against his leg, and the knowledge that he was desired set him arching into his partner’s hands, fumbling to hold Newton’s face still as he licked past Newton’s red lips into the warmth of his mouth.

Newton moaned and bucked his hips forward.  In between nibbling his jaw and, inexplicably, kissing his nose, Newton gasped, “Hey there sailor, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

Hermann froze, with Newton’s lips still pressed to the side of his nose, to process what he had just heard. He pushed Newt’s head away to stare at him. 

“That was absolutely the worst line I have ever heard.” 

Newton leered at him. “Aw, you were supposed to say something about taking off your clothes because, _you know_ , it’s so hot in here and then _I_ \-- ”

Hermann snorted. “For a man with half a bachelor’s degree in linguistics, you are shockingly terrible at expressing what-- “

“Hey now, I thought we agreed to never again bring up my shameful academic past, Hermann-- “

“ --you want, Newton. And for the last time, linguistics is _not_ a shameful field, I cannot understand why you don’t-- “

“Tendo still has the contract, by bringing this up you are in _breach_ of _contract_ my good man-- “

Hermann slapped a hand over Newton’s smirk, doing nothing to fight back a smile of his own.  “A contract drawn up on bar napkins is not legally binding without a seal of notarization, my good man.  Now,” he said, ignoring Newton’s mumbled insistence that Hermann was not a lawyer, “do you want to hash out this old argument, an argument you will lose again, I assure you, or do you want to have sex?”

Newton moaned, his breath hot against Hermann’s palm.  He released Newton’s mouth to hear him say, “Door number two, please.”

They fell back into kissing, open-mouthed and reckless.  The heaviness of what they were doing snuck back into the room, though it was made lighter from their previous shared laughter.  Though Hermann often cursed Newton's lack of social graces, the man was adept at breaking tension. 

Newton slowly worked Hermann out of his clothes, asking permission before beginning (“Can I, please, wanna see all of you”) and mouthing at each newly bared patch of skin.  It was so different from the night the breach was closed.  Then, Newton had removed his clothes in a no-nonsense, utilitarian manner, meant to get the job done as fast as possible. 

 _This_ was slow and heady, intimate.  Hermann lost himself to Newton’s words, gasping when the man dragged his teeth over the jut of Hermann’s hipbone.  Rarely had Hermann been able to feel so uninhibited during sex.  He stretched his arms above his head and sighed happily.

It was incredible (Hermann’s pleasure-addled brain was incapable of producing any other adjective, and Hermann found himself choking out the word into the damp hollow of Newton’s throat several times) to be taken care of, to surrender his body into Newton’s capable hands. 

“Tell me what you’re comfortable with in regards to your leg,” he said with his hand hovering above the scar tissue on Hermann’s hip, making sure to hold eye contact even while he flushed crimson.  Since Hermann was relaxing in bed, he had forgone wearing his prosthetic.  “Is that...is that okay for me to ask?”

“Ah, well, avoid pressing on my hip.  Other than that, just touch me, please, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” Hermann answered, laying a hand over Newton’s and moving it to his upper thigh, covered by a white nylon sock.  Together they lightly kneaded the sore muscle, working out knots until Hermann more resembled a cat lying on a sunny window sill than a grumpy old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn. 

Newton told him as much and was rewarded with one of Hermann’s toothy smiles, which were apparently “very rare to witness in the wild, Hermy, I feel honored.”

When Newton’s fingers began untying the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, Hermann turned his head into the pillow to muffle a sharp moan.  Bolts of arousal ricocheted through his body as, guided by Newton’s hands, they worked together to leverage Hermann’s hips off the bed.

Newton quickly pulled the trousers and underwear to Hermann’s knees, and helped Hermann settle back onto the bed.  To his vague embarrassment, his freed cock slapped up against his belly.  “All right?” Newton asked, tapping out a rhythm onto Hermann’s knobby knee.

Hermann nodded, and Newton pulled the garments completely off, stroking along his calf in the same motion, and tossed them to the floor.  Hermann shivered when Newton peeled off his right sock next, gently cupping his ankle in his warm, calloused hands. 

Before Hermann had time to feel too self conscious, Newton was on him and over him, caressing and kissing and panting strange half-sentences into the crook of Hermann’s elbow, the dip of his collarbone.  The first touch of Newton’s hand to his cock was punctuated by gasps from both of them.

“Oh,” Hermann sighed, a flush creeping up his neck at the same pace a small smile bloomed on his face, and Newton laughed breathlessly.

“You have a nice smile, Hermann,” he said, moving so his knees bracketed Hermann’s skinny hips, jeans rough against bare skin. 

“Feels good?” Newton asked, moving his hand in long, gentle strokes from the base of Hermann’s cock to the tip.  Hermann’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes.  “God, Hermann, you’re amazing,” Newton said, adding “wanted this so long,” and “feel so good in my hand,” small snippets of speech that had Hermann’s breaths going erratic. 

He had often wondered if Newton would bring his habit of unending chatter into the bedroom. He hadn’t expected to be lucky enough to find out. 

Or to like it quite this much.  Everything Newton said affected him, ratcheting up his arousal in sharp jolts.  A particularly firm stroke wrung out a whimper from Hermann, and Newton swooped down for a kiss.

“Yeah,” he whispered against Hermann’s lips, and they kissed leisurely, relaxing into each other and this intense new intimacy that the drift had only hinted at.  That had been overshadowed by pain and the overwhelming Other presence of the Kaiju.  This was just them, safe in Hermann’s bed, Dorito crumbs dotting the sheets and Newton’s voice washing over them both.

Warm, smooth skin met Hermann’s hands as he shoved them under Newton’s t-shirt.  He pressed his palms to either side of Newt’s rib cage, and thrilled to feel the expansion of his partner’s heaving breaths, the thrum of his heart.  He touched Newton’s throat and his lips.  _Incredible_.

Newton mouthed his way along Hermann’s neck, the wet insides of his lip catching on Hermann’s skin, and when he reached his ear asked, “Can I suck you off?”

A full body shiver jolted through Hermann, and he told Newton, “Yes, please,” over and over, knowing that later he would consider it undignified to gasp and plead and writhe beneath Newt, but in this moment it was freeing, sensual, incredible. “Please.” 

“I got you baby, I’m gonna,” Newton panted.  “Gonna give it to you, wanna give you everything.” 

There was a blur of frantic kissing, positioning Hermann’s left thigh on a pillow, fumbling with a condom, and Newton settling on his stomach between Hermann’s spread thighs.

“ _Oh_ , please, do it, Newton please-” Hermann panted, the words bursting out of him, casually losing his mind at the sight of Dr. Newton Geiszler flat on his stomach with Hermann’s right leg draped over a shoulder, his smiling mouth inches from Hermann’s painfully erect penis. The long line of Hermann’s thigh and calf rested against Newton’s fever-warm back, weighing him to the bed, to this moment here with Hermann.

“Shh, yeah I’m gonna, just wanna look at you first,” said Newton.  “Mmm, you got such a pretty cock, Hermann.  What do you want me to do with it?” 

Hermann huffed, half arousal and half mortification.  “Just…”

“Love that accent of yours, you know.  Love it when you yell at me and you switch to German,” Newton said, mouthing at the pale skin of Hermann’s belly.  “Come on Hermann, wanna hear you say it.”

It was too much, too embarrassing for Hermann to give voice to the filthy desires that arose whenever he looked at Newton.  “Oh for God’s sake, you... you know perfectly well what I want you to do, so get on with it.” 

Hermann glanced down at himself, suddenly aware of how completely obscene a picture he made, and covered his cock with his hands.  The condom was tacky against his sweaty palms.

Newton’s smirk dropped as he caught on to Hermann’s discomfort.  He made to shoulder out from under Hermann’s leg but Hermann caged him in with his thigh and a glare. 

“Hey,” Newton said, taking one of Hermann’s hands in his.  Hermann was bolstered to feel a fine tremor in Newton’s grip, proving that he was not the only one this badly affected. 

“It’s fine,” Hermann rushed to say.  He took a breath. “I don’t want to stop. I am merely unpracticed in speaking during, ah, amorous situations such as this.”

Although Newton’s lips had twitched at “amorous situations” he nodded firmly.  “Got it.  Um.” He chuckled, his cheeks red. “I guess all my talking must be bugging the shit out of you, eh?”

“On the contrary. The only thing that’s bothering me is how many articles of clothing you’re currently wearing,” Hermann said, making a valiant effort to rally his wits.  He unclenched his thigh’s death-grip on Newton’s shoulder, allowing the man to nestle back beneath his leg once more.  He hid a wince at the flare of pain the motion caused in his left hip.

Newton laughed, delighted, one of his full body laughs that Hermann could sometimes hear through three steel-reinforced walls, and reveled in feeling that mirth pressed against his skin.  “How about we worry about that after I get you off?” he asked.  He bent forward to press a row of kisses to the inside of Hermann’s thigh.  “Tell me if your hip starts bothering you,” he breathed, and lowered his mouth over the head of Hermann’s cock.

Warm, wet suction, and Hermann clenched his fists in the blankets.  It was amazing, made all the more wonderful because it was Newton doing this to him, giving him this pleasure. 

Without warning Newton forced his head down and coughed when Hermann’s cock bumped the back of his throat. Saliva dripped down Hermann’s length as Hermann watched, spellbound.  This didn’t seem to deter Newton, who only moaned and tried again, coughed once more.  He carefully swallowed until the cock was completely encased in his throat, and hummed in victory, punching one fist in the air. 

Hermann whined and couldn’t resist fisting his hands in Newton's soft hair.  His cock slipped a millimeter more into the soft give of Newton’s throat and Hermann's head dropped into the pillows, groaning in ecstasy.

Newton pulled off to breathe, and the sight of his cock shining with slick from Newton’s throat had Hermann grasping at its base, trying to stave off his orgasm. 

“Gonna get ourselves tested tomorrow, or next week, or whenever,” Newton said, panting. He licked long strokes up the shaft and mouthed at the head, seemingly oblivious to Hermann falling apart beneath him.  “Wanna do this without a condom.  Wanna know what you taste like when you come in my mouth.”  He nuzzled his face at the join of Hermann’s hip to his leg, blissful in his place tucked between Hermann’s legs. 

Hermann groped for Newton’s hand and gripped it tightly in the blissful minutes that followed.  His other hand flew up to cover his eyes, which he knew Newton would most likely tease him about later. 

He squeezed Newton’s hand. “Close,” he whispered, wishing he could prolong this but unwilling to expend the effort.  “I’m close, _please_.”

Newton nodded against the thin skin of Hermann’s hip, and reared up to seal his mouth around the head of Hermann’s cock, humming and sucking.  With three, four, five small pulses of his hips, Hermann let go, and the orgasm that tore through him was like sunlight, a cleansing fire. He bit his lip as he rode out the strong bursts of pleasure, only allowing frantic puffs of air to escape his mouth. 

At last he lay back onto the pillows, satiated as he had not been in years.  Newt slowly dragged his lips off Hermann’s softening cock and removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it over his shoulder. 

“You’re...picking that up...later,” Hermann panted, finally taking his hand off his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face.  He floated in the afterglow, sleepy and warm and safe.  He might have drifted off to sleep if Newton hadn’t crawled up his body, unbuckling his belt as he went.

“Hi,” he said, and pressed a chaste kiss to Hermann’s lips.

“Hello. Would you like a hand with that?” Hermann asked, pulling Newton’s cock through the slit in his boxers. “And let’s get that shirt off, shall we?”

He lifted the hem but Newton’s hands stilled him.  “Um.”

Hermann frowned. “Newt?”

Newton kneeled astride him, bright red, sweaty, and erect, and Hermann had never seen anyone so enticing.  He patiently waited for him to speak, growing more and more nervous with every second Newton stayed silent.

Hermann smoothed his hands down Newton’s arms, ending the motion with taking both his hands in his own.

Newton sighed. “I just.  There are more tattoos than the ones on my arms and.” He cleared his throat. “After everything I. Didn’t know what you’d think of ‘em.”

Hermann sighed. He thought back to the sweaters and long-sleeved shirts Newton had worn the past two days.

“Oh, you darling boy,” Hermann murmured, carefully noting the way Newton’s breath hitched at the endearment.  He pushed up the hem of Newton’s shirt, prompting Newton to pull it over his head. And yes, there were more Kaiju swirling over Newton’s chest, colorful and daring, along with a few older tattoos that Hermann looked forward to getting to know later.  Hermann stroked down his chest, his arms, his belly.

“I don’t care about the tattoos.  Well, I do, in that I rather like them, because they are yours, and I happen to like you rather a lot.  But you do not have to hide from me.  Now,” he tapped his lips with one finger, “kiss me.”

Newton chuckled, rolling his shoulders back, confidence returning.  “So bossy,” he said, but obeyed.  While they kissed, Hermann snaked a hand between them to grasp Newton’s cock. 

“Ah!” 

“Is that a good ‘ah’ or a bad ‘ah’?”  He set a slow pace, pulling in long, even strokes.

“Good, it’s a good ‘ah,’ so good, oh my god you’re really good at this,” Newton whined.  He slumped down, resting his weight on his elbows which were planted on either side of Hermann’s head.  “Can you speed up a little, though?  Yeah... _yeah,_ like that.” 

Newton's eyes were half closed, mouth half open, breathing hard.  _I can do this to him_ , Hermann thought, and sped up the motions of his hand.  “Next time I want you completely naked,” he was shocked to hear himself say.

Newton shuddered out a desperate moan, and that was more than enough encouragement for Hermann to continue with a quiet, “I want you to jerk off for me later. Would that be all right?”

“ _Oh,_ Hermann, _fuck_.”

Face burning a brilliant crimson, Hermann couldn’t believe he was actually saying these things.  He was about to see what else he could stand to say when Newton’s hips started to twitch forward.

“Yeah Hermann, ‘m close, yeah oh... _god,_ oh Jesus, just like that, just like that, oh, baby,” he panted.  Hermann pulled his head down to rest in the cradle of his neck, mouthed kisses on his temple.  “So good, so good to me, want you all the time, want you,  _Hermann_ …”

Newton trailed off into wordless groans and then he was coming, all over Hermann’s chest and stomach.

“That’s it,” Hermann murmured.  "That's it, darling."  He pulled the man close and cradled him through the aftershocks, stroking his bare back as he settled.

“I wanna get an apartment with you," Newton said, still panting.  "And go on walks in the park and have a garden and cook for you.  I wanna build you a kickass robot leg and feed ducks with you and introduce you to my mom,” Newton mumbled into Hermann’s neck.  "Gonna start doodling 'Dr. Newton Gottlieb' on my binder and invite you to the prom."  He sighed and sucked a kiss behind Hermann's ear.  "Y'better buy me a really pretty corsage or I'm dumping you."

Hermann smiled.  It was a smile that Newton would later declare "somewhere between beatific and fucking radiant."  He brushed Newton's sweaty hair off his forehead.  “I look forward to arguing with you extensively over the minutiae of all of those things.  To start, you’re not building me a robot leg.”

He waited for Newton’s inevitable screech of mock outrage, and was not disappointed. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Stars" by Grace Potter & the Nocturnals. I am able-bodied, and tried my best to be sensitive with Hermann's disability, but of course there are things that I will never know or experience about physical disability. If there are errors or anything offensive please don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks for reading!


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